After the Battle
by blackpoppies
Summary: Basically focussing on the people whose lives were devastated by the Battle of Hogwarts primarily the Weasleys and Harry, but also other characters asthe story develops , and their trying to rebuild their lives. I DO NOT OWN HP. duh xD
1. Chapter 1

After the Battle – Chapter 1

Harry slumped onto the four-poster bed and let out a long sigh. He lay on his back silently, staring at the maroon canvas that hung above him, not looking up when he heard Hermione enter the dormitory, nor when he felt the mattress sink as Ron sat down beside him.

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked him.

Harry thought about this for a moment. He wasn't sure that he could give a satisfactory answer.

"Tired." he said finally, "just tired."

And it was the truth; he felt like he had gone for so long without sleep that his mind would be unable to process the magnitude of the days events until he had a full nights rest in which to recover.

He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked at Ron.

"What about you?"

"I dunno," he shrugged, "weird, you know? Like I don't know how to feel. I s' pose it's still sinking in."

Harry nodded, and looked across the room. "Hermione?"

She was sat on the next bed, looking thoroughly shaken and staring avidly at her knees.

"All right, I suppose," she said, "it's hard to explain, isn't it? I mean, after everything that we've lost-" she broke off, shaking her head and looked up, a tear glistening on her pale cheek, "-but I'm not going to think about that now. We've got forever for that No," she smiled, weakly, "we've won, it's oven now, and that can only be a good thing."

Harry couldn't think how to reply to this, so he just smiled sympathetically at her. Ron, however, walked over and sat beside her. He kissed her gently and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Thankyou Ron," she said quietly, leaning her head on him. Harry couldn't help noticing that Ron seemed almost to be suppressing a contented smile, but there was a guilty look in his eyes, as though in lieu of the loss of Fred he felt that happiness was not justified.

Harry looked away, feeling as though he was intruding on some private moment between the two of them.

Just then, the dormitory door opened, and Ginny walked in. For a moment, he caught her gaze, but he couldn't hold it. Her hair was tangled and matted, her face grimy with dirt, and there were large bags under her red eyes which sparkled with tears. Harry wanted nothing more than to hold her and to kiss her, but he seemed unable to move, or even to look at her.

"Hi," she said nervously, "I just came to let you know that Mum and Dad and everyone are staying at The Three Broomsticks tonight, and we're going home first thing in the morning. Mum said to let you know that you can come home with us too, Harry." Harry nodded at his knees.

"Right, well I'm going to sleep in the Girls dormitory. Are you coming, Hermione?"

"No, I think I'm going to stay here tonight."

"Oh. Well, night then," she said, and walked out.

As the door closed, Harry fell back onto his bed, where he lay silently.

"For God's sake Harry, go after her!" said Hermione, but Harry simply shook his head, pulled the covers around himself and fell immediately into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

After the Battle – Chapter 2

Harry woke relatively early the next morning, having had only a few hours sleep, but feeling surprisingly refreshed.

He opened his eyes slightly, and saw that light was flooding the room from a gap in the curtains. Ron was fast asleep on his bed, his mouth wide open, and his arm was around Hermione, who was lying on her back, her head turned towards Ron, and her profusion of hair spread out around her.

Harry smiled to himself and got out of bed. He walked across the room and gently shook them awake.

"Wa'ss goin on?" mumbled Ron, opening his eyes blearily. As he pulled himself out of bed, his gaze wandered to Hermione, who lay next to him, and he couldn't suppress a smile. Hermione, too, sat up. As Ron's eyes travelled around the room, his smile wavered, then his face fell.

"What is it," asked Hermione, tenderly.

"Sorry," he muttered, "it's just… for a minute then, it was like- like none of it had really happened"

Hermione gently entwined her hand in his and he smiled gratefully at her.

"We should get going," Harry said, walking to the door. Ron nodded, "Yeah, we'll be down in a minute"

********

When Harry got into the common room, he found Ginny sat in an armchair by the fireplace, staring trance-like at the dancing flames. Hearing Harry enter the room, she turned around. Harry noticed that her usually sparkling eyes were as red and teary as they had been the night before, and the bags under her eyes had grown. Despite all this, however, when she smiled at him, Harry felt his heart leap and he couldn't help thinking how beautiful she was.

"Hiya," she said.

"Hi," he replied awkwardly, not meeting her gaze. There was an elongated pause in which Harry looked down at his feet, longing for an interruption.

After what felt like an hour, the door opened and Ron and Hermione came in, hand in hand.

"We going?" asked Ron. Harry nodded gratefully and climbed out of the portrait before the two of them, Ginny taking up the rear.

They reached the entrance hall, where Mr and Mrs Weasley were waiting with Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Percy and George, in whose scarred, shaking arms lay Fred's body; cold and lifeless, a grin still spread across his pale face. Every one of them looked grave and solemn. George was looking down at Fred's empty, unseeing eyes as though willing them to fill again with their lost mischievous sparkle. When Mrs Weasley noticed the four of them she embraced them in turn. She hugged Harry last, holding him tightly to her breast, then stepping away and stroking his arm in a motherly way.

"We'll see you back at the burrow then, dears," she said, and dissaperated.

George was the next to dissaperate. Without a word to anyone he turned on the spot, Fred's limp body swaying slightly in his arms, and they were gone.

One by one, each of the Weasleys left, until Ginny too had gone, and only Ron, Harry, Hermione and Mr Weasley remained. Before he too dissaperate, Mr Weasley addressed Hermione.

"I expect you'll be wanting to get back to your parents now, but you're welcome at The Burrow any time you like."

She smiled politely and replied, "thank you Mr Weasley. I'd really like to come and visit."

Mr Weasley vanished and Hermione turned to Harry and Ron. She hugged Harry and kissed Ron, then said, "Well, bye then."

She was about to dissaperate, but halted mid-turn as Ron suddenly shouted "Wait!"

She looked at him.

"Come stay with us!"

She threw her head back and laughed melodiously. "Oh Ron, I wish I could, but there's so much to sort out. My parents are in Australia for Heaven's sake! I haven't seen them in nearly a year. I promise I'll come see you as soon as everything's sorted out."

"Oh. Ok then," Ron said, looking disappointed, but also slightly reassured.

"Well I'll be seeing you soon, then," she said, hugging them both again before dissaperating.

Ron looked at Harry. "I'll see you back at The Burrow, then." And the two of them dissaperated simultaneously.

********

Harry arrived in the yard outside the burrow a few seconds before Ron, and just had time to notice the Weasleys stood together nearby, Ginny's face standing out the clearest, before Ron apperated on top of him.

"Sorry mate," Ron mumbled, getting to his feet, as Ginny giggled.

"What are you laughing at?" he said fiercely.

"sorry, it's just- well, you're missing an eyebrow."

He ran his fingers over the place where his eyebrow had been.

"I think an eyebrow's the least of my losses", don't you?" said Ron, darkly. Ginny's giggling ceased instantaneously.

"Ron-" said Mrs Weasley.

"Don't," he said, and stormed past them into the house.


	3. Chapter 3

After the Battle – Chapter 3

The Weasley household was immensely subdued that day. The effort that was required to uphold a conversation seemed too great, and therefore everyone spoke very little. It seemed to Harry, who at many points that day had felt like a stranger intruding on the family's grief, that their silence was a tribute to Fred, whose body now lay in his and George's old room – once the scene of great laughter and joy – in preparation for its burial tomorrow.

Mrs Weasley, perhaps to distract herself from her grief, busied herself with housework even more thoroughly than usual, but extremely absent-mindedly. She would often clean something, then return to clean it again 10 minutes later, forgetting that she had already cleaned it. At one point, Harry caught her attempting to iron one of Ron's shirt's using the kettle.

Ginny, though teary-eyed, put on a thoroughly convincing masquerade of exuberance. This drew many disgusted looks from Percy, who seemed to regard this as disrespectful to Fred's memory. Harry, on the other hand, saw that this was simply a front, designed to hide her anguish. He wondered whether he saw this because he knew Ginny so well or purely because he was so separate from their misery.

Mr Weasley, conversely, did not attempt to conceal his pain, nor did he search vainly for distraction. He seemed resigned to his grief. There was never a moment when his cheeks were bereft of at least one glistening tear. He would often sit at the kitchen table for hours at a time, staring at his clasped hands, lost in the folds of his own consciousness.

Both Bill and Charlie maintained a dignified silence throughout the day. Bill remained constantly in the company of Fleur, who made regular attempts to console him, always in vain, until eventually she gave up trying. Despite the silence that was being sustained by himself and his family, Charlie seemed resolved to stay in the presence of others. When his brothers and sister retreated to their bedrooms he would help Mrs Weasley with the housework. It seemed that he, like her, found this to be a source of distraction.

Percy seemed determined to atone his betrayal, and so was intent on casting aside his own grief in order to comfort his family, irrespective of whether or not they wanted this.

No one had seen Ron since the morning. After his outburst he had hidden himself in his bedroom, and not surfaced all day. He refused to eat, or speak to anyone. Twice Percy had tried to coax him out, but to no avail. Harry did not force his presence on Ron; he felt that he was best left to his own devices for a while at least.

Of all the Weasleys, however, it seemed apparent to Harry that George had taken the loss of his brother worst. Of course, this was no more than was to be expected, but that did not make it any less heart-wrenching to see George sat beside the body of his twin – his best friend – watching him intently as though trying to protect him from further harm.

Of course, Harry missed Fred immensely. During his time at Hogwarts, not to mention the countless summers and Christmases spent at the burrow, he had been like a brother to him, in the same way that all of the Weasleys had been the closest thing to a family for him. But Harry could not help feeling a little guilty for this. He felt that his grief was completely inadequate, and beside the Weasleys, he had no right to mourn Fred at all.


	4. Chapter 4

After the Battle – Chapter 4

Fred was buried the next day. It was done very quietly, with only the Weasleys and Harry present. There was no big funeral. As George had said; 'The last thing he'd want was everyone crying over him.'

So with that in mind, a small private burial was conducted in the garden of The Burrow, where he was laid to rest under a weeping willow. He had no coffin; his body was put in the ground as it was. He could have almost been sleeping. For a few moments Harry was able to convince himself that he was. A trick of the light as the sun emerged from behind a wisp of cloud made it seem for a second that his eyelids had flickered open.

From the day of the battle, and of Fred's death, George had been very introverted, but had not given any real sign of how he was feeling. He has barely spoken or eaten. In fact he seemed incapable of doing anything other than sitting in silence, stock still, staring blandly at his brother's body.

Now he was shaking uncontrollably, as tears poured relentlessly down his face. It was around two years ago that Fred and George had flown out of Hogwarts to the sound of animated cheering. They were flying out to freedom, and to an uninhibited future. Now one was weeping as he watched the dirt fall onto his brother's body as he was buried. It was heartbreaking to see.

Once they had said their goodbyes, they retreated into the house where they drank to his memory, after which they sat in an awkward silence for some unknown expanse of time.

Harry spent this time staring blandly at the tabletop. He traced the patterns that were etched into the woodwork with his index finger. As the time passed, he began to think. Almost unconsciously, he found himself replaying every memory that he had of Fred. Harry couldn't recall a single moment of the time he had known him when the carefree grin on his face had faltered. He had taken it for granted when he was alive, but he now realised just what an impact he had on those around him. He was always happy; always laughing. It was impossible to feel down in his presence. He didn't deserve to die.

Over the last two days, Harry hadn't allowed himself to think of the losses of the battle, but it was finally beginning to hit him. For the first time in a very long time, he felt hot tears building in his eyes. He blinked and looked up at the others. Each of them had tears cascading down their cheeks. Feeling again that his grief was infinitely inferior to theirs, he gulped, took a deep breath, and tried vainly to disguise the wiping of his eyes.

It could have been anything from a few minutes to several hours, It was impossible to tell how long they had been sat there for, before George eventually spoke. "He'd hate this, you know"

Ron looked up. "Hate what?"

"This. Silence; crying. It's not what he would have wanted."

Mrs Weasley nodded. "You're right dear. He'd have wanted us to remember the good times."


	5. Chapter 5

After the Battle – Chapter 5

A week had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Weasley household was just beginning to return to a state of what could not quite be described as normality, but at least some vague semblance of it. On occasion, an impromptu period of silence and melancholy would descend on The Burrow, but these were gradually becoming shorter and less frequent. It was as though the ten of them had formed an unspoken pact of acceptance at the previous week's events. No one had any intention of forgetting Fred, but it seemed that they had come to the conclusion that he would not have wanted them to live in a state of relentless mourning.

It was late evening, and Harry was sat alone in his and Ron's room, staring absently out of the window. The sun was sinking behind the hills in the distance, painting the hills a pinky-gold, and drenching the landscape in its glow. A pair of birds were flying above Ottery St Catchpole. They soared and dived and weaved around one another. It was almost as if they were dancing.

He watched the birds intently, trying to evade the thoughts that had been plaguing him since the battle, but it was futile. After a few minutes he gave up and slumped onto his bed where he lay in silence, wallowing disconsolately in his thoughts. He felt trapped within his own mind.

A year ago, Dumbledore had just died, and he was about to leave Hogwarts for the last time, setting out to find the Horcruxes, not knowing whether he would live out the year. Two years ago, he had been sat in Dumbledore's office watching Trelawney's prediction in the penseive, and it began to dawn on him that eventually he would kill, or be killed by, Lord Voldemort. Three years ago, his dreams were haunted of visions of Voldemort rising with billows of ghostly steam from a cauldron in the graveyard of Little Haggleton. Seven long years ago, that first letter had appeared on the doormat at 4 Private Drive. Most importantly of all, 16 years ago Wormtail had given Voldemort the information he needed to find the Potters, and he had come to Godric's Hollow and killed them both before turning his wand on Harry.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed as though his entire life had been leading up to that one moment a week ago, in which he had killed Voldemort, yet everything could have turned out so differently. Just maybe, if he'd done things differently, the extensive losses sustained in the past two years could have been avoided. There were so many times that he could have changed things.

How many lives could have been spared if he hadn't been so proud, and allowed Sirius and Remus to kill Wormtail all those years ago in the Shrieking shack? Cedric; Sirius; Dumbledore; Hedwig; Moody; Grindelwald; Dobby; Fred; Snape; Remus; Tonks; Colin; countless other faceless dead that were killed by Voldemort, or on his orders. They could all have been spared if it weren't for his stupidity. As ever, his need to play the hero had caused it all.

There was a knock on the door. Harry sighed. He really didn't want to see anyone when e was feeling like this. "What?"

Ginny's melodious voice drifted through the door, "it's me. Can I come in?"

Harry pulled himself up, so that he was sat on the bed. "I suppose so."

The door opened, and she walked in. He had never noticed before how her freckles stood out against her pale cheeks or the way her thin lips folded in on themselves when she was nervous. She sat down next to him on the bed, and put her hand on his. Her hands were soft, but stone cold. She sat in silence for a while, watching him, her head inclined slightly towards him.

"Did you want something?" Harry asked, when it became obvious that she wasn't going to speak.

"Well… it's just, you've been really distant with everyone recently- Ron's noticed it too- and, well, I just wanted to make sure you're ok."

Harry shook his head. He really didn't want to talk about it. "I'm fine. Was that it?"

"Actually, there was something else. Last year, after- I mean when we- well, before you-" She fell silent. Harry sighed inwardly. He was sure he knew what was coming, and he couldn't deal with it right then.

"Go on," he said, reluctantly.

"At Dumbledore's funeral, when we split up. Do you remember what you said? About how we couldn't be together, because Voldemort comes after the people that you care most about? Well..." she hesitated, "that's not really a problem any more. I was just wondering, if you wanted to, we could-" but she couldn't finish. She broke off, and looked at the floor.

"We could get back together?" prompted Harry. She nodded.

His heart sank. He didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to deal with this?

"Ginny-" he began, stroking her cold hand, but he found that he, too, wasn't sure how to continue. "I don't think I can. Not now, anyway. Not today."

She nodded again. "I understand," she said, but she wouldn't look at him. Without another word to him, she stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Harry feeling utterly deflated.

*Clichés *Symbolism of birds *Wormtail not mention as a spared life


	6. Chapter 6

After the Battle – Chapter 6

Harry woke up the next morning to the sound of Mrs Weasley's voice echoing up the staircase of the Burrow.

"Harry! There's someone here to see you!"

He reached for his glasses and pushed them onto his face, then pulled on a sweater and some jeans, then headed downstairs. Now that he was out of bed, he felt wide awake, but he wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and pull the covers over his head.

As he entered the kitchen, Hermione flung herself at him.

"Oh Harry, I've missed you so much!"

"Calm down, Hermione, it's only been a week," laughed Ron, who was stood nearby, next to Ginny who was perched on a work surface.

Harry grinned, feeling whole-heartedly cheered up. "It's great to see you, Hermione."

She laughed and let him go.

"So how have you all been, then?" she asked, looking from Harry to Ron and Ginny.

Ginny shrugged, "this week's been awful, but we're getting there."

Hermione nodded sympathetically, but an awkward silence seemed to have descended. When he could bare it no longer, Harry spoke; "I take it you've found your parents, then?"

"Oh yes," said Hermione, "I set off for Australia as soon as I left Hogwarts, and I tracked them down fairly quickly I managed to lift the memory charm and explain everything to them. They're a bit disorientated still, but they're improving. They're thinking about staying in Australia, now."

"No!" interrupted Ron, "you can't do that!"

Hermione laughed. "Let me finish, Ron! As I was saying, Mum and Dad have been thinking about staying in Australia, but I've just about talked them out of it. I mean- I've still got my education to think about, haven't I? It would be an awful upheaval to change schools at this point. I presume you two are going back to Hogwarts in September?"

Ron looked taken aback at this. "I- well, I haven't really given it much thought."

"Well you really should," said Hermione, "both of you. We've missed out on the most crucial year of our schooling. What will you do if you don't have any NEWTs?"

"I suppose we can't put you through a whole year of school without us can we, Harry?" grinned.

"I guess not," laughed Harry.

"You realise," said Ginny, "that if you guys come back, you'll be in the same year as me."

"Oh yeah!" Harry said, trying to sound enthusiastic, although his heart was sinking. Feeling that a change of subject was perhaps in order, he then said, "I've been thinking… maybe it's about time I met my Godson."

"Yeah," said Hermione, "I think that's a good idea. Do you want any of us to go with you?"

Harry smiled, "Thanks, but no. Andromeda's been through so much recently. I think it's best if I do this on my own."


	7. Chapter 7

After the Battle – Chapter 7

Harry knocked on the oak door and stepped away.

It took a few minutes for Andromeda to answer. When she finally opened the door, she smiled at him in a way that, while genuine, seemed to Harry to be rather forced.

"Hello dear," she said, "come in."

It suddenly struck Harry just how much the woman that stood in front of him had lost in the past months. She wearing patched, greying robes, had large black rings around her eyes, and her greasy hair was tied in a tight bun at the top of her head. He got the impression that she had neither, or washed or slept properly in several days.

He hadn't thought of this. Coming to meet Teddy, Harry had been so enveloped in his own losses that he had forgotten that this woman had lost a husband, a daughter, and a son-in-law, and the only family she now had was her motherless grandson. For a moment, Harry considered leaving, but managed to pull himself together.

"Hello, Mrs. Tonks," he said. It felt odd to be calling someone Tonks again. It was scarcely a word that he thought he would ever be able to use to address a person again. He had to suppress a slight smile as he thought that although Nymphadora – the woman he had always known as Tonks- there were still another two Tonks' in the world; her mother and her son.

"I presume you're here to see Teddy, is that right?"

He nodded, a little ashamedly, feeling almost as though his visit was an intrusion into the one thing which she had left.

"You don't have to look so guilty," she said, correctly interpreting the look on his face, "Dora and Remus named you Godfather. You have every right to want to meet Teddy. Now, please come in dear, you're letting a draft in."

Harry laughed nervously and stepped inside, grateful of her welcoming nature, even if he was a little unsure as to how genuine it was.

As he stepped inside, he noticed a picture frame on the windowsill. It had a photo of Tonks, who beamed with pride at the newborn baby that slept in her arms as Remus leaned over him, his arm around Tonks. It could only have been taken a matter of weeks ago, but it seemed to represent the massive change that had occurred in that time. The photograph showed two smiling, happy people who now lay cold in the ground, holding a child who was now orphaned.

Harry opened his mouth to say something about it, but his train of thought was interrupted by a loud cry from another room.

"That's Teddy," said Andromeda, "would you like to go and see him?"

"Oh, yes please," Harry smiled, speaking uncharacteristically politely.

"He's in a cot in the room down the hall," she said, waving her hand vaguely, "just go straight through."

Teddy had stopped crying, but as Harry entered the room he began to bawl terribly. He walked over to the cot, and picked him up slowly, trying not to startle him, but he bawled even harder as Harry took him into his arms.

He felt decidedly awkward as he stood in a strange room of a house that he had been in only once before -in very different circumstances- cradling to his chest the tiny, screaming bundle that, hard as it was to believe, was now his Godson.

For several minutes, Harry rocked him, and bounced him, and did everything that he could, but still Teddy cried and screamed.

"Shhh…" he said, "it's alright."

He felt rather self-conscious speaking to a tiny baby who undoubtedly had no notion of what he was saying, but his voice must have been soothing to Teddy, because his crying died away instantaneously.

"That's it," cooed Harry, his sense of self-consciousness beginning to fall away, "there's no need to cry, is there?"

He offered out his finger, and as Teddy grasped it in his tiny fist, gurgling happily, a curious sensation came over Harry.

The tiny, laughing life in his arms had just been orphaned and would never know or remember his parents; the innocent victim of a horrific tyranny. The feelings of guilt that had plagued Harry over the past week began to swell up in him, but as he looked on his Godson's smiling face, a realisation hit him; this was him. Parents stolen from by Voldemort before he was old enough to remember, facing a life without the people that had brought him into the world – not only Teddy, but also himself almost eighteen years ago. The evils that had orphaned Teddy were the same that had orphaned Harry. Evils that had now, at last, relinquished their hold on the magical world forever. There would be no more Harrys, or Teddys. No more Freds, Dobbys, Nevilles, nor anyone else whose world had been torn apart by Voldemort.

Looking back on his time with the Dursleys, and the loveless childhood which he had endured as a result of his parents' death, he made a private oath to love Teddy as his own son, and to make sure that he grew up happy and cared-for, and had everything that he himself had missed out on.

He wouldn't let Voldemort's destructive power destroy this boy's life.


End file.
